


chocolate granola bars

by lavenderletters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, i couldnt decide what i wanted to write so its like a mix of fluff and crack and, i promise there is klance it just takes a while because i needed to give the team some love first..., klangst, krolia nearly murders someone over monopoly, romelle has a lava lamp phobia, shiro loves the golden girls, the klance stuff is gonna come in more toward the end, the team is cute and loves spending time together, this whole fic is a mess you get the picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderletters/pseuds/lavenderletters
Summary: “A pillow fort sleepover!” Lance cried out, leaping up with such alacrity that Pidge had to grab her laptop to prevent it from sliding to the floor.“No way, we're not—”  Pidge stopped and blinked, exchanging a glance with Hunk, then looking back at Lance again.  “... Oh.”  She evidently had not been expecting such a tame suggestion.  “Okay.”-------------Or, Lance is bored out of his mind and decides to organize a sleepover with the squad.  Nonsense ensues, and Lance works through some confusing emotions—particularly those involving a certain mullet-haired team leader.





	1. extrovert boy annoys introvert friends into interacting with him. more at 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a meme-y mess but also really angsty toward the end... I promise there will be Klance, but it doesn't come to a head until the final pages.

Lance had never liked the quiet.

He was used to a loud family, a loud television in the background, a loud ocean hissing outside the open window. So much so that he, too, became loud. Loud in the way he talked, the way he fought, the way he laughed, and the way he loved. No one could ever accuse him of being a silent type.

It's no surprise, then, that after lying on the ground and staring at the ceiling for seventeen dobashes straight, bouncing his legs methodically against the edge of Pidge's bed, he finally reached his breaking point. The stillness in the air was too oppressive. Letting his feet fall back down to the ground with a thud (and not a moment too soon, given the alarmingly fast pace at which Pidge's annoyance was escalating), Lance puffed an exaggerated sigh and lurched upward into a sitting position.  
  
“I'm bored,” he declared matter-of-factly, as if stating it aloud made it the universe's problem and not his own.

“Tragic.” Pidge did not so much as glance up from her laptop.

Lance whinged and climbed up onto the bottom of the bed, realizing that his foolproof plan of foisting the responsibility of solving this issue onto someone else would require a bit more finesse. And by finesse, he meant complaining.

“How can you guys just sit in a room together and say _nothing_?” the boy demanded, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “We just saved the freakin' world! We should be partying and having fun. This feels like we're just wasting time!” There was a petulant twinge to his voice, but he could not be bothered to correct it.

“Uh, Lance,” interrupted Hunk, an unimpressed look on his face. “Excuse you. This?” He gestured to the colorful space-mouse-sized tutus he was currently crafting out of hair ties and shredded shower loofahs. “Is very important.”

Lance deadpanned for a moment before groaning and collapsing sideways across the bed, stretching his left arm over his forehead for enhanced effect. “I am friends with couple of complete shut-ins. Hermits! The both of you!”

“The correct term is 'introvert,' thank you very much, and Hunk and I are quite happy with our solitude. Why don't you go play a prank on Keith or something?”

The thought was a tempting one, but in all honesty, he felt that the playful, teasing relationship between him and Keith had still not recovered, and he was not eager to test any boundaries right now. Best not to poke the bear, as they say. Or, in this case, the broody emo half-Galra. Lance wasn't sure which was more dangerous. Actually, scratch that, Keith was definitely more dangerous.

“Urgh!” the (former) Blue Paladin exclaimed, shaking the thoughts away and focusing instead on the task at hand: pestering his friends into entertaining him. “What is a poor, handsome, lonely social butterfly to do? I'm gonna die if I don't get some human interaction, and STAT!”

Without missing a beat, Pidge replied, “Then perish.”

There was a snicker from the table where Hunk was working on his tutus, and Lance paused for a moment. Then, slowly, he rolled his way to the side of the bed where Pidge was tapping away at her computer, looked up at her with his best puppy dog eyes, and in a deadly, deliberate voice, said:  
  
“Owo.”

A pillow came down on his head instantly.

Unable to contain his laughter, he burst out into a series of giggles, peeking out from underneath the pillow to see Pidge with a wide grin spreading across her lips. Immediately, however, she let out a perturbed noise and turned her gaze in Hunk's direction.

“He's doing the smushy thing,” she objected, finally closing her laptop and setting it aside.

“What? Only I'm allowed to do the smushy thing!”

“What the hell is a smushy thing?!” Lance broke in, confused and a bit flustered by the sudden yelling.

Hunk stood up from his chair and stretched, then made his way to the side of the bed, folding his arms and looking down at Lance, who was still peeking up at the two from underneath Pidge's pillow. “Yep. He's definitely doing the smushy thing.”

“Would someone _please_ explain—”

“It's where you do something so stupidly adorable and precious and full of sunshine that everyone just wants to smush your cheeks,” Pidge elaborated with the demeanor of someone providing the definition of some incredibly scientific term. Lance was no expert on science, but he did not think that “smushy thing” fell into that category.

“A low blow, Lance,” Hunk lamented, shaking his head. “You've struck us where we're most vulnerable. You have to learn to control your powers, as I have learned to control mine.” He spoke as though he was a wise old sage imparting his teachings upon a young prodigy.

Pidge sighed dramatically and sat cross-legged, placing her hands on her knees and closing her eyes. “You win this time, lover boy. What do you want to do? I warn you,” she added, fixing Lance with a stare, “I absolutely refuse to go to any night clubs or raves or whatever other crazy shit is going through your brain right now.” There was a dangerous glint in her eye that warned against any objection on that front.

Lance hummed in thought, finally pulling his head out from underneath the pillow and revealing his ruffled hair in all its glory. Hunk, ever the mom friend, absently fixed the part and smoothed out the tufts while Lance frowned pensively at the pillow in his hands. Then, it hit him.

“A pillow fort sleepover!” he cried out, leaping up with such alacrity that Pidge had to grab her laptop to prevent it from sliding to the floor.

“No way, we're not—” Pidge stopped and blinked, exchanging a glance with Hunk, then looking back at Lance again. “... Oh.” She evidently had not been expecting such a tame suggestion. “Okay.”

Lance beamed brightly. What a great way to break the dreaded silence. Sleepovers were never quiet. Except for the sleeping part, but what kind of weakling actually slept at a sleepover? Not Lance, that's for sure.

“What are we waiting for?” He was already jumping off the bed and hitting the floor with a small 'ow.' “We've got to go get the others. This is going to be a community event, people! Tell them to come to my room; yours is way too messy, Pidge. Chop chop!” Excitement was in every bounce of his step as he made his way for the door. “I'm gonna go find Shiro!”

“Shiro's napping like two rooms down. You know this,” Pidge pointed out suspiciously.

Lance stopped at the threshold and spun around to smirk at the other two. “... Yep. Andyouguyscanfindtherestoftheteambye!” With that, he bolted down the hallway, leaving a pair of unamused Yellow and Green Paladins in his wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lance you little shit


	2. local alien princess discovers doritos. what happens next will SHOCK YOU!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team constructs and settles down in their pillow fort, though the event is made... somewhat difficult due to alien interference. Lance is overcome by guilt & has to address this emotion head-on. Also, Allura is a pure bean.

One manhunt and a few snack breaks later, Pidge and Hunk stumbled into Lance's room with their teammates in tow. By the looks of the place, Shiro and Lance had already gathered as many blankets, pillows, clothes pins, and ropes as they could carry. Numerous multi-colored lava lamps—don't ask how Lance got his hands on so many damned lava lamps at the Garrison, of all places—were scattered all around the room, practically begging to be lit up.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Lance invited, spreading his arms wide as the team filed into his room one by one. “We gather here today to—hey, where's Keith?” There was one single party member missing from the equation, and it bothered Lance more than he cared to admit.

“Oh, he said something about needing to do something with his mom,” Hunk supplied easily, seeming nonchalant.

Pidge piped up from the back. “What? But I brought Krolia.” She gestured plainly toward the Galra woman standing beside her, who simply shrugged.

“I was unaware of any plans,” she conceded, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Perhaps he needed some time to himself.” Her gaze softened at the thought.

“Aw, man, Keith is always needing time to himself! Can't he just live a little?” Lance interjected, childish grumpiness finding its way into his tone. Soon thereafter, though, he resolved to simply _not care_ , _nope, not one bit._ He was not going to let the absence of that stupid mullet get in the way of his meticulously planned pillow fort sleepover extravaganza. He had gotten all of the materials together, and he was going to have fun, damn it. Keith or no Keith. Still, a sinking feeling remained obstinately in his stomach.

He shook his head. “Right, whatever, okay, let's get started!”

...

Building the fort itself was a mess.

Half of the people here were aliens with no understanding of or appreciation for the pillow fort tradition. Allura and Coran kept questioning the practicality of using blankets as a roof when the Garrison's ceilings were clearly architecturally superior, and Romelle and Krolia were stomping all over the room as they curiously inspected each and every lava lamp in Lance's collection.

(“Is this real Earth lava?” Romelle whispered, poking at the encased swirls of green and blue.

“I don't think so. From what I've heard, it would probably explode if rattled too much,” Krolia murmured in reply, narrowing her eyes at the strange liquid.

Romelle was suddenly not so interested in poking at the lamps anymore.)

The other half—the human half—was struggling to maneuver around their alien companions in order to properly set up a makeshift tent. When the ropes had finally been strung across the room and secured tightly, Hunk and Shiro retrieved the blankets and started clipping them in place while Pidge and Lance crawled beneath and lined the inside with pillows, more blankets, snacks, games, and lava lamps.

By the time they were done, it was well past dinner time. A few stomachs were grumbling, and Pidge and Allura both migrated toward the multitude of snacks inside the fort. The princess had not had the chance to try Earth snacks yet, and Pidge seemed more than happy to open up all of her favorite bags and boxes.

“These Do-Reet'os are delicious!” Allura gasped, orange Dorito powder smudged across her cheek. “And I usually hate the taste of Do-Reet!”

Pidge quirked a brow. “The hell is a Do-Ree—you know what, not gonna ask. Enjoy.” She busied herself with emptying a sleeve of Oreos.

“Come on, you guys,” Shiro attempted to persuade, “let's go stop by the cafeteria. You can't just eat junk food for dinner.” He was promptly met with almost crazed glares from both Pidge and Allura, their mouths and fingers covered in crumbs. “Okay, okay, junk food for dinner,” he instantly relented, eyes wide and hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

Once everyone had settled in and sated their appetite on snacks, they started splitting off into smaller groups. Shiro had managed to pull the room's television down into the fort—though not without knocking over a lava lamp, causing Romelle to shriek until Krolia calmly set it upright again—and was currently introducing Coran to his favorite show.

(“The Golden Girls? But they don't seem to be made of gol—oh! The drama caught me totally unaware!”)

Pidge and Hunk, meanwhile, decided to teach Romelle and Krolia how to play Monopoly.

(“I don't understand. If the bank is trying to steal my money, why can't I stab them?”  
  
“No, listen, Krolia, a bank is not something you can stab—”

“Why is the bored walk so expensive? I take bored walks all the time for free. This seems really unfair.”

“Okay, first of all, Romelle, it's board—”)

That left Lance and Allura. Which... normally, Lance would have been over the moon to get some alone time with the princess, but right now, something just felt off. There was a weird lump in his chest, this strange sense of guilt that he was unable to shake.

“Lance?” Allura asked, looking uncharacteristically shy and hopeful. It took everything in Lance to not point out the Dorito dust next to her lips. “Would you like to do something together?”

There was something about the sweet, warm look in her eyes that made a piece of Lance shatter inside. “Allura, I'd like to talk to you, if that's okay,” he finally managed to get out. “In private.” There was a smile on her face suddenly after the words were out of his mouth, and it only sent another pang through him. This was not going to be the conversation she clearly wanted.

As the two rose and pulled open the flaps of the fort, Pidge and Hunk turned their attention to Lance and gave him teasing smirks and winks. All he could muster was a queasy, unconvincing smile as he followed Allura outside and into the hallway. From there, he set off for her room just a few doors down.

They stepped inside, and Lance closed the door behind him, taking a seat across from where Allura now sat on the edge of her bed. His hands were shaking, he noticed, so he folded them together and leaned into his knees, staring at the ground for a while.

“Allura,” he breathed out slowly, “I've been thinking about.. about us.” A pause. Allura was patient as always. “Ever since I came back, I've noticed you seem to be more... forward with me. Acting like you're interested in—” He cut off, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he may have been entirely misreading and assuming Allura's actions and words recently. “I mean, I may be completely off the mark on this, and if I am, please just forget I said anything—”

“Lance,” Allura interrupted, fixing him with that lovely aquamarine gaze, one which for so long he had yearned to see staring at him with the affection it now held. “You are interpreting this correctly. I'm... interested in you, yes. Romantically.” Her lips quirked into a soft smile.

Lance was overcome by a sense of both relief and dread. Relief that he had not been wrong in his assumptions and had thus not made a fool of himself, but dread that it meant he would now have to initiate a very uncomfortable conversation. The best way to handle it, he knew, would be to dive in headfirst. So he steeled himself.

“.. Allura, I love you very much,” he admitted, his words rich with honesty. The way Allura smiled so happily and blushed so heavily made his heart curl in on itself in agony. “I always will. But... not in the same way anymore.” There was a sharp intake of breath, but he could not bear to look at the princess, so he barreled on instead. “I was so—so hurt when you chose Lotor. And I'm not blaming you, because I get it, the guy was convincing. And had a lot of things that I'll never—listen, this isn't about me. The point is, it hurt really badly when you chose him, and in order to heal and grow, I had to accept it and move on. So I did. I knew I needed to respect your choice, even if I didn't agree with it. And even after we.. dealt with Lotor, I found that I was still able to move on. It helped make me feel freer as a person, and made me realize that I could be my best self just on my own. I needed to stop relying on other people—on my fantasies of being with you—to make me feel complete. I learned to achieve that by myself, and I feel better for it. But I still.. I still love you, Allura, and I want you to know that. I want you to know that even if it isn't a romantic love anymore, that doesn't make it any less real.”

Silence crept into the room, and it was more uneasy than ever. If Lance thought he hated quietness before, then he had just discovered a whole new level of loathing. The heavy air between them was sizzling with tension, and Lance wished he could hear it, if only to fill the void with some kind of white noise. He was certain he was about to lose his mind, until finally Allura spoke.

“I have made many mistakes over the deca-phoebs,” she began gently, tenderly. “There are things I wish I could go back and change, lapses of judgment I wish I could amend. I have so many regrets in this life.” Lance nearly jumped when he felt her hands clasping over his. “But not a single one of those regrets is being your friend, Lance. Regardless of anything else, you are so dear to me, and you always will be. Thank you for telling me.”

Lance eventually risked a glance upward and found Allura peering at him with a smile that he swore could make angels weep. No, wait, that was just him. He sniffled once and lifted a hand to wipe away the moisture in his eyes, then offered back a watery smile of his own. “You've got Dorito dust on your cheek, by the way,” he offered lamely, unable to keep a wavering laugh from bubbling up within him.

Allura blushed again, though this time for an entirely different reason, and she hastily wiped away at her cheek. “I can't believe you let me go through all of that while I had a dirty face!” she admonished, but her voice was tinkling with laughter as well, and once she was certain her unwelcome snack residue had been wiped into oblivion, she stood and helped Lance to his feet before pulling him into a firm hug.

It was comforting, so full of understanding and love, and Lance willingly and enthusiastically returned it with an embrace of his own. When they pulled apart, they were both still smiling, and Allura nodded her head toward the door. “Let's return to the others before they get too worried. Or burn your room down.”

The thought of anyone damaging his belongings while he was gone was enough to send Lance power-walking back toward his room, with Allura snickering and jogging to keep up with his long-legged strides. When they re-entered the pillow fort, it was fortunately in good form, though its inhabitants were another story all together.

Shiro and Coran were on the floor laughing so hard they were in tears, while the television flickered and lit up their faces. Lance was glad to see Shiro enjoying himself, given all of the grief he'd had to sort through recently, but the sight of the usually stoic leader in stitches on the floor of a pillow fort was nevertheless a disconcerting one.

The Monopoly game was going about as well as one would expect. Somehow, Romelle had figured out how to dominate the game, and she was ruthless in her rule of the board. Hunk and Pidge looked almost frightened, and Lance couldn't tell if it was due to Romelle's intimidating mastery of the game, or the fact that Krolia looked like she could at any moment pull a real knife out of her pocket if she was sent to jail one more time.

(“What kind of _corrupt_ government makes you _pay_ for your own _freedom_? This has got to be the work of Zarkon's imperial propaganda.”  
  
“Krolia, _please_ , it's just a game—”)

Eventually, after much debate over what to do, Allura settled on asking Lance to paint her finger nails. Nail polish had apparently never been a part of Altean fashion, and she was interested in trying something new. And so, Lance shuffled over to his nearby dresser and pulled out the little kit he kept around for when his niece came to visit. She always wanted her nails painted, so Lance had become remarkably good at it, especially since the young girl was prone to fidgeting and bouncing around absently.

Allura and Lance talked about everything and nothing as he worked patiently and precisely on her nails, coating them in the holographic paint she had selected. There were plenty of moments of silence between the two, where Lance remained focused on the task at hand, and Allura simply let her eyes wander about the fort, drinking in the atmosphere and watching her friends.

Lance was surprised to find that he did not mind this silence. There was no awkwardness to it, and he was for once not overcome by a sense of restlessness. This was... nice. Peaceful. The quiet lull—broken now and again by a shout of frustration from the Monopoly group or a boisterous laugh from Coran or Shiro—calmed him, and he genuinely enjoyed it. Maybe silence was not always bad.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and as time passed and Allura admired her freshly painted nails—(“No, Allura, no more Doritos until the paint dries!”)—the team as a whole began to collectively grow tired. One by one, heads started to loll, and sleep started claiming each and every person present. Even Allura eventually relinquished her grip on her Doritos and crawled over to a patch of unoccupied blankets, in which she then curled up and almost instantaneously passed out.

Lance had always been more of a night owl, and while he was highly entertained by the sight of all of his friends snoring in ridiculous positions (and, obviously, he took plenty of pictures), he was a bit disappointed that he no longer had anyone with which he could spend the night. He had been determined to stay awake all evening and have fun, but it was rather hard to do that when he was the only one still conscious in a sea of the dead.

He was brought out of his dilemma and back into the present by the soft sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the faint, tentative rustle of a blanket flap being pulled back. Before Lance could so much as ponder, a very distinct, very annoying mullet popped into view. It lingered for no more than a tick to observe the scene inside the tent before pulling back out again. The door opened again, this time more gingerly, and then was shut with equal care.

Lance blinked once, then twice, then bolted up and headed toward the sound.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the klance is FINALLY coming i promise
> 
> p.s., I made a voltron tumblr so i can keep up with the cool kids & reblog a lot of klance fluff and angst & maybe share my deranged theories and memes every once in a while: https://lavender-letterbox.tumblr.com/


	3. klangst? in MY sleepover crack fanfic?? its more likely than you think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance confronts Keith about his recent distance from the team, and they have a T A L K.

Once outside, Lance glanced toward the sound of receding footsteps and caught sight of a head of black hair a few yards down the hallway.

“Keith,” he hissed, tip-toeing his way in the other's direction. “Where are you going? Why didn't you join us?” There was a touch of accusation in his tone, though he did try to hide it somewhat.

The figure in front of him froze, turning around to fix Lance with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you were all asleep,” he protested, his voice immediately defensive. Like he was anticipating a fight over even the smallest comments.

“No—I mean, yes, everyone else was,” Lance admitted, and Keith raised an eyebrow as if to say, _See?_ Lance's lips curved downward, and he jumped right back into his argument. “Listen, I was awake, okay? So the party was still going!”

Keith only quirked his brow further.

“Stop looking at me like that! It's true! I'm the life of the party, so if I'm awake, the party's on!”

“... Right. Anyway, if the team is asleep, you should be too. Go to sleep, Lance.”

The next thing Lance knew, he was faced with the back of a mullet as Keith turned to leave again. The image stung, and in the beat of a heart, his mind's eye filled with the memories of past moments just like this one. Keith leaving for the Blade, Keith leaving for Acxa—Lance knew he was being stupid and immature to equate them, but he just hated to see the other boy walk away.

He'd tried to convince himself that it was just because he _hated_ the sight of Keith's hair from behind, but honestly, it wasn't so bad after all. It had kind of grown on him, try as he might to fight it. No, it was something else that ate away at his gut every time he had to watch Keith leave. Something that made him want to reach out, put a hand on that broad shoulder, and murmur, “Stay.”

“What?”

Lance recoiled his hand as if burned, not having realized that this time, his instincts _had,_ in fact, gotten the better of him. He floundered for a moment, cradling his hand and looking so out of sorts that he could have sworn he saw amusement flicker across Keith's face for just a tick. It was nice. Like a taste of something one had been craving for a long time. Lance tried not to think about that too much.

“I just—listen, man, you can't keep bailing on us like this! You should be hanging out with us.”

It had been the wrong thing to say, because Keith's expression dropped any hint of humor and instead started twisting with anger.

“In case you hadn't noticed, I just got done spending _all the time in the universe, quite literally,_ with all of you,” he bit back, trying to keep his voice down low so as not to wake anyone within earshot. Unfortunately, that meant his words came out in a raspy hiss, which made them even worse. “You've been going on and on since our release from the hospital about how you can finally get a 'break.' Well, newsflash, Lance, I've needed a break too.”

Lance's frustration was building steadily. “Yeah, I fucking figured! We all need a damned break! That's why I arranged the whole pillow fort business in the _first place_!” Back before he'd left, Keith had always managed to do this. To get under Lance's skin and force visceral reactions from him. It hadn't happened much since then, and it surprised Lance how much of an emptiness that left in him. Somehow, the itching sensation in his veins was a welcome one. Until Keith's next words turned his blood to ice.

“Well maybe _my_ idea of a break is getting a break from _you_!”

There was the silence again. The worst one yet. Thick, ugly, stifling. It permeated the hairs that rose along Lance's neck, and it seeped into his very lungs, coating them with a humid pain that made it hard to breath. Something akin to regret spread across Keith's face, but as the black-haired boy opened his mouth to speak, Lance cut him off.

“Fine. That's fine. Maybe you don't give a shit about me,” he uttered in a dark, scathing tone, “but I give a hell of a lot of shits about you, Keith. Even though you've been acting like a real ass lately, you are still fucking important to me, and it worries the crap out of me when I see you walling up and shutting out your friends.” There was a tremor in his throat, but he did not bother trying to fix it. “I fucking meant what I said on that little shithead's game show. And I said it because I care about you, and I want to see you safe and happy. But you're throwing that all away every time you lock yourself in your room, or you skip dinner to train, or you slip out of the Garrison grounds before anyone wakes up in the morning. Yeah, I noticed that. You keep stealing all the fucking chocolate granola bars from the kitchen on your way out, you prick. You know those are my favorite and I'm allergic to the God damned strawberry ones.”

This was getting out of hand. Why was his vision blurry? Was he really crying over a box of granola bars? “Fuck this,” Lance spat, wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes. “Sorry for fucking caring. It was stupid of me. Another dumb move from Dumb Lance.” A nauseating wave of embarrassment washed over him as he tried his best to cover up his face, wet from crying.

Before Lance could turn around and escape from this uncomfortable level of emotional exposure, Keith's hands rested on his own with a gentleness that seemed unbefitting of someone so typically harsh and rough-edged. There was a soft, tentative tug, and despite Lance's better judgment, he allowed his hands to be pulled back down into the space between the two boys.

“Lance,” Keith spoke quietly, causing Lance to involuntarily flinch. “I'm not... good with feelings.”

This start, Lance noted, was less than impressive, but he listened anyway.

“I didn't... I'm sorry I said that.” He hesitated, and Lance thought that perhaps that was all he was going to get out of the other Paladin. After a moment, Keith continued cautiously. “I've been... off lately. Ever since I came back to the team, I've felt so—so—... different. Like we all changed, and I didn't quite.. fit, anymore.” He exhaled slowly. “I guess I've kind of felt like... on some level... when you try to include me in things, it's done out of a sense of pity or obligation. Because I don't really belong, but you're all too polite to say it.”

“Keith—”

“No, Lance, listen to me,” Keith interrupted, though not unkindly. “I realize that I haven't exactly made an effort to change that. And that's on me. I guess I just found it... easier, in a way, to accept that things had changed between me and the rest of the team. It meant that I could prevent myself from getting too attached.”

Lance looked up, confusion and curiosity overcoming him. He was met with a pair of pained purple-grey eyes. There was a certain desperation in them, as if Keith wanted nothing more than to make Lance understand.

“Nearly losing Shiro, it was—I just—” Keith breathed in and exhaled. “It hurt so much to think I would never see him again. It was hard enough going through that with one person, but then it hit me that it could happen to any one of you, and I just... I guess I was scared.” His voice cracked, but Lance had the dignity to ignore it. “It's why I've been.. pushing back so hard when you've tried to show concern for me,” he finally admitted, his thumbs absently grazing over Lance's damp hands. “Of all the Paladins, you are the one that I would feel the most pain over if something were to happen to you. And I—don't get me wrong, it would crush me to see any of them dead, but it's you who I think would break me. It's always been you. And that's no excuse, I just—”

Keith paused then, and after an instant, he gingerly released Lance's hands and wrapped his arms carefully around the other boy's torso. There was a tension in the action, as if he was unsure _how_ to initiate hugs, or whether he even _should_. When Lance hesitated in his embrace, Keith instinctively curled inward, causing him to tighten his grip slightly. He whispered, “I'm so sorry. For everything. I've been a complete ass. I thought it would be the safest option for me in the long run, but I was being selfish and stupid.”

The silence returned then, but Lance decided to break it not long after. Once the shock wore off, his arms gradually looped around Keith's shoulders, squeezing him back in a warm hug.

“Thank you for saying that,” he breathed, his voice barely audible as he let his fingers rest in Keith's hair. “... I'm sorry for calling you a prick.” His lips twitched into a faint smile, which he buried in his companion's shoulder.

Keith just snorted, tracing soothing patterns into Lance's back. “I deserved it,” he argued back, then allowed himself to break into a small smile of his own. “By the way, I'll stop eating all of the chocolate granola bars.”

Embarrassment lit Lance's cheeks aflame, and he groaned upon remembering the ridiculous tangent he had gone off on a couple of dobashes ago. “I just really like the nutmeg undertones,” he mumbled defensively into Keith's shirt. In truth, it reminded him of his mother's Christmas-style oatmeal cookies. But that would be a revelation for another time.

Keith's huff of laughter sent vibrating tingles down Lance's spine, but the sensation was nothing like the jolt of electricity when he pressed a chaste, light kiss to Lance's temple. It was a simple, affectionate gesture, but it was enough to stun the boy senseless for a good few ticks. Finally, when Keith pulled away to gauge whether or not he had made an error, he was met with sparkling blue eyes—beautiful, even in the dark—and a dopey smile.

Lance's fingers somehow (read: intentionally) found their way down to Keith's, and both hands easily slid into one another, fitting together perfectly. After giving the moment just a bit more time (definitely not because he enjoyed being able to study Keith's eyes, definitely not), Lance stepped back and turned, guiding Keith back to the room and ever so quietly padding into the pillow fort. Everyone else was still comatose, so the two had to be careful not to wake anyone as they slipped into the nearest pile of blankets and closed their eyes. Though he loathed to admit it, all of that crying and fighting had left Lance exhausted, and he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to make it to morning. In the end, he was just another weakling in the list of sleepover casualties. But maybe, just maybe, it was nicer this way.

“Lance?” A whisper.

“Mm?” A grumble.

“... Thank you.” And then, silence.

As Lance scooted closer and draped his arm fondly over Keith's chest, he decided that he liked silence, when in the presence of those dearest to him. Love was loudest, he found, when it was quiet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for making it to the end folks, hope you enjoyed xoxo
> 
> tumblr: https://lavender-letterbox.tumblr.com/
> 
> feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions/want me to write up a lil somethin


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